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Thursday, November 8

Thursday thanks

Sitting here, in another hotel room, composing this week's "thanks" I started whining thinking:

"I'm tired of being on the road. I just want to be home goddamnit. And I'm just bloody tired. I don't wanna write. Maybe I'll put thanks on vacation this week."

(Cue world's smallest violin playing a sad song just for me.)

But if I'm honest with myself. If I peel away the layers of travel-weariness, the past six weeks have been an adventure. And when I look back on this period of my life many years from now, I'll have no regrets that I missed any opportunities.

From Atlanta to Williamsburg to a tiny town in northern Rhode Island to Fort Walton Beach to Tallahassee, and last (but certainly not least) San Diego, I've traveled for work and play every single week since September.

In my ping-ponging from home to hotel and back again I've seen at least half a dozen places I might never have seen otherwise. Seriously, Williamsburg was not on my list of 1,000 places to see before I die, but it probably should have been. I'll forever be grateful that a conference dragged me there. After all, it's not every day you get to sleep in the same hotel as the Dalai Lama and your run through town takes you back in time 300 years.

At some point in my life I might not have the mobility I have now. At some point I might not have the resources to take off for a weekend on a whim. At some point I might not be able to attend conferences or be invited to guest lecture...

So I need to quiet that whiny little part of my brain that's saying "I miss home."

I need to remember to relax and enjoy the ride.

I need to re-read Kristin Armstrong...

"Instead of thinking or saying, I have to finish this project or I have to pick up my kids, I stopped myself and tweaked my language: I get to work on this... I get to do speedwork... I get to go on a long run... Since then, I've shared the idea and gotten inspiring feedback. A friend told me she felt more joy while taking care of her kids. Another told me her running group spoke in I get to language for an entire run. A woman and her friends wore "I Get To Run" T-shirts on race day. A woman running the Turkey Trot in Santa Barbara on Thanksgiving morning came up to me and said, "What a beautiful day. Aren't we lucky we get to run? Gratitude is contagious. It's the smallest thing, but it has the power of something big. It's a shift in perspective that can open your head and your heart. And if you want, you get to try it."Kristin Armstrong, blogger and columnist for Runner's World